


Surrender All Your Dreams

by Sonny



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Drama, M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-11
Updated: 2008-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and David knew one another pre-David's popularity ; For a brief moment in time, they were in the same band ; As Michael is leaving, David is stepping in... but there is an undeniable draw between them they cannot deny or forget... nor do they want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender All Your Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing in this fandom and first time writing RPS. This is the only way I could justify, in my own mind, to being capable of writing this type of fan-fiction. I mean no disrespect to either man, but there's just something I can't overlook about them and it begs to be written. I've taken liberties to build my own world concerning them and in their past together, while still being able to incorporate bits in pieces of each man's true reality, just with a slight spin. I guess you could say I took poetic license, while still using their personal lives as a sketch-able drawing board.

_**5yrs prior...** _

_**Inside the bar/club dressing room** _

**Michael**

 

**"You're fired."**

Michael wasn't sure he heard the words correctly. He could almost assume the words had been... _**"... we had a band meeting (** _ **without you** _**)... and we decided... we have to let you go..."** _ . Didn't matter how it was sugar-coated, it still sounded the way he heard it. 

He perked up one side of his head, as if to allow the sounds to flow better into one ear, then out the other. "... pardon..." Both hands went on his hips, fingers nervously tightening around the loose waistline of his jeans, actually able to feel the bones. 

"... please, Mike... don't make this harder than it actually is..." 

Michael had known something was brewing. Ever since they had picked him up in the tour van. Some of the guys could barely look at him, not even square in the eye. They started unloading their gear, carrying on in the usual joking and teasing manner, but now it was like three members against one. They were alone in the dressing room, after lugging in the stage equipment the last two-n-a-half hours. 

Being an extremely popular local band gave them a certain notoriety, but it didn't afford them the clout to have their own roadies. Michael pitched in on the physicality just as much as the other band members. He just made everything he did look easy, never breaking a sweat or loosing his cool. It's why they knew this was the best time to approach Michael. 

Michael stood there, in his pre-performance get-up of white cotton-t and jeans, planting his bare feet apart in a stable stance of determination. He liked being in his bare feet simply because walking around with naked skin touching a cool tiled floor's surface generally balanced him, grounding his core before he went out in front of a crowd. Sometimes he'd even jump onstage sans shoes... always the free spirit of the bunch. He crossed his arms and bent his head to stare at the ground, wondering if he was actually still back at his apartment, huddled under warm bed covers... and this was only a dream. Or was it his worst nightmare? 

"... look... this is our last gig before we step into the recording studio to do the second album, but after tonight... we think it's best if you're no longer a part of this band..." 

Someone came near... someone touched his biceps, almost petting in a soothing manner... like that made this terrible news go down a little better. 

"... Mike... we leave it up to you if you want to stick around and play tonight... and we'd even understand if you just want to pack up an' leave..." 

Michael wanted to lift his head and say something like _**"HELL NO!!"** _ or to even stake some claim that the band would go nowhere without him. That HE was their fearless leader and they didn't know what kind of success he could bring them. HE was the essence of what gave this motley crew of young men the presence of what had gained them such quick popularity. Yet, he couldn't help thinking there had been a n itch of dissension, amongst the ranks, for quite awhile now. It felt odd to him to be kicked out of a band he had practically pieced together with h is own hands. He really didn't understand why this was happening... or why he was the main target... 

Play tonight... or not? Take a swan dive for his last time on stage as lead singer of this band... or leave like a pussy-whipped bitch, with his tail between his legs? Hmmm... decisions, decisions, decisions.... 

"... hey... take a few minutes... let the shock wear off..." 

"... yeah... you've got a few hours before showtime... you can tell us your decision tonight..." 

Several hands patted him on the back... his shoulder... shook his body to give him the courage to deep breathe and soldier on. They knew there was a greatness to Michael that was being squelched by their need for mediocrity. They didn't need the bright lights of stage and twenty-thousand seat arenas with their fans chanting their names and singing along with them. They liked where they were, but they knew Michael was feeling... suffocated. This was really for the best. 

Michael still couldn't help feeling he had been blindsided. He would've rather not have been brought here. Would rather not have them wait until zero hour to force him to make a choice that could make or break his career. Hell, his own sanity, even. Sure, sure... for the past few months there had been fights and disagreements between him and a few members, but nothing that spoke of getting his ass drop-kicked out of the band. A band he had literally put his whole heart and soul into. 

Before Michael had a chance to lift his head and respond, the room was emptied, then eerily silent. 

Thank God, because it gave him less of an excuse to have to explain why he dropped to his knees, in the middle of the floor, head in his hands... 

No one would know how to comfort an emotionally stunned grown man, with tears brimming his eyes. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

_**Outside the club, along the back alleyway...** _

**David**

 

**"I'd like to hire you... full-time."**

It took David a minute or two before he really knew that Korey Harkum was talking to HIM. He was being offered the opportunity of a lifetime. About two weeks ago he had shown to an open audition, in the hopes of becoming a signed artist under an actual "agent". Korey Harkum was the best, for being a music talent agent/band manager in such a po-dunk small town. 

"... are you interested, Cook?" Korey blew out the smoke from the side of her mouth, hooking her thumbs on the back waistline of her jeans. Her short, hip-length leather jacket creaked open, displaying her ample chest under a ribbed tank-t. Her midnight black hair fell in long wisps down her back and over her shoulders. She knew she was an intimidating sight for many young men David Cook's age, which made her that much more tickled to actually love what she did for a living. Helped her succeed in a man's world, making her the best at what she could do with her keen ear and sixth sense about people. 

Was David actually hearing those words? and were they being told to him by a bona fide band manager? 

This was only his third time playing live, as rhythm guitar, with this particular band and the second time they would let him sing back-up, maybe a few harmonies. He had auditioned for Korey, but she knew where she wanted to place him the minute she heard him play and sing. The situation had become one of the longest audition processes of his entire musician's life, which had only been all of... three years. Straight out of high school, college life had just not been his cup-of-tea. 

There was a sudden twitch in David to whip out his cell and speed dial his Mom. She had been able to tell, from the start, that this band was the perfect "fit" for her son. Although she couldn't help dreaming bigger, of the day when David would solo or front his own band. David wasn't misled, knowing they were pipe dreams and a little hard work and dedication never hurt anyone. Mrs. Cook simply wanted the best for her child, especially if it was for something he dearly loved as much as music and performing. 

"David?" Korey knew it was quite a shocker, coming out-of-the-blue like that, but she knew she had to strike while the iron was hot. There was no sense in making the poor kid suffer any longer. The band had told her of their decision almost the day after David came aboard. 

"Huh?" David plopped backward onto the hard brick wall, tucking his hands in his front jean pockets. He didn't mean to sound like such a goofish dunderhead, but... _Christ_... warn a guy, when you're about to hand him his dream career on a platter. 

"You were smilin'... just then... starin' at me rather vacantly. Do I take that as your 'yes'?" Korey threw down her cigarette butt, mashing out the lit end on the asphalt. 

"Ms. Harkum..." 

"... Korey..." 

David shook his head, unable to fathom calling her anything but his guardian angel sent from Heaven. He would call her anything she wanted. "... that... was a definite... HELLS YES!" He didn't know what to do, but he had to wipe the sweat off his palms first. After that, he let out another crooked smile, once the long arm with the well-manicured hand was offered. The woman had one helluva strong grip. It told him that this was the only body contact he would receive. 

"Cool..." Korey released her own small grin, infected by David's pure joy and excitement. There was something about David Cook that brought out this weird "mothering" vibe off her usual chilled exterior. Strange, since she had been single every one of her 36yrs with no ideals or desires to have kids or even marry. A handshake was what she could offer, for now, even though it looked as if David was in dire need of a hug. She went back to hooking her thumbs on her jeans. "... the guys'll need some time to figure out some things, but if you could come to the recording studio - _in a week-n-a-half_ \- we'd like you to be a part of the second album. By then, we'll sign contracts and make everything 'official'." 

"Do they wanna talk to me, at all... before the show?" David had received a call from the band this morning, telling him to show up at the club and find Korey, first. They never even mentioned that she had good news for him. He was pretty sure he missed being able to help them carry in their instruments and gear. He didn't want them to think he was a slacker on his first day on the job. 

"Why?" Korey winked suspiciously. "You gotta hot date, Cook?" She really missed seeing this kind of "fire" burning in a young musician's eyes. Most of them would become so jaded and bland, it took a rare moment to find someone like David. 

"Eh... maybe..." David smirked, while sniffling a bit as he shook his head. "... she's picking me up in twenty minutes, taking me out for a 'special meal'..." 

Korey knew about the young girlfriend. Someone from high school. Not exactly sure if it was long-term for David or even that the kid was in love. She had met the sweet girl once, upon David's first audition, and she seemed capable of handling this kind of change. Was actually very supportive of David and his choice of career. Korey wondered how long that would last as David took off with his talents. "Well, sounds serious." She glanced at David, catching the bashful manner in which he looked down, then up at her face. There was a minuscule moment of him not going any higher than her bottom lip and chin, but then once he lowered his eyes and raised his head again... he caught her directly in the eyes. "You are gettin' serious, right?" This was as good a time as any to find out. 

"Yes..." David stared at Korey, catching her off guard. "... yeah, yeah... I think so... well, I hope so..." He muttered these last words more for himself, a quiet boost of self-confidence... "... I really, really hope so..." 

Korey had been floored by David's determined stare. Those eyes... once alight with pleasure, now were brimming with this... craving. "I'll let you go, then." She pointed off beyond her shoulder. "I'm gonna see the rest of the guys." Now she actually peered over her shoulder. "... I think I hear sounds of them back near the van." 

"You coming back? For tonight?" David appeared a little too eager, wanting the approval and acceptance. he knew it was a lot to ask, so early in the game. For all he knew, Korey could have her own plans. 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Mr. Rockstar." Korey reached out to pluck at David's vest, somehow now feeling more like an older sister. 

"Ahhh... you heard about my solo..." David blushed, dipping his head as he rocked back into the brick wall behind him. 

"Kid... I told them if they didn't let you shine tonight... ONCE, with at least one of your songs, I'd fire myself." 

"No, you didn't." David doubted the truth to that comment, but it was nice to know someone believed in him, besides family. 

"... yeah... nah, I didn't. But I probably wouldn't talk to them. Book them on shitty gigs for a solid week." 

"That... sounds more like it..." David softly chuckled, wiping a hand over his face, then swiping it along the back of his nape and neck. He kept the hand and arm there, head bent, just gazing down at the asphalt. 

Korey had to swallow with a bit of difficulty. David was introvert and shy, but reeked of unbridled talent out of every pore and bone. It belied the rise to super stardom that she could read off his aura so sharply. She had seen this only once before, in the last five-or-six years. Last time being when she had been mesmerized by the late-night crooning of a dark-hired, sexually potent Australian. Both she and Michael had taken the ride of success together, no holding back. The way David spoke, sometimes, she heard this spark of suave confidence that wasn't egotistical or grandstanding. He simply knew what he was born to do. 

She couldn't stand it any longer. Pulling off the knitted skull-cap on David's head, Korey combed back the flat bangs, showing off the high pale forehead. She continued to make tiny noises, under her throat, as she held out some strands, in spiked lengths, playing with a new look and hairstyle. 

Korey snatched her hand back, using an index finger to point directly toward David's beard. "... loose the facial pubes, down to a light five o'clock shadow... and chop..." She tilted her head, squinting her eyes. "... maybe, three inches off the length... get rid of some of that bottled color... an' I guarantee you'll kill 'em dead, David." 

David hadn't been shocked by Korey's touch, just a little disturbed he actually liked it. He wanted to tease her about it, but wasn't looking forward to her clocking him in the face or kneeing him in the groin. "... I'm not lookin' to be a sex symbol..." 

Korey shrugged with one shoulder. "Comes with the territory." 

"I'm a one-woman kinda guy. I swear." 

"Good luck with _that_ belief." 

"Excuse me?!?" David chuckled deeply, holding a hand over his heart as if hurt by the jab. He knew he wasn't like other guys his age. 

Korey tapped an index finger on her jawline. "... did I say that out loud?" She took out her cell, flipping open the phone. "I'm callin' my stylist at Brittenridge. I'll make you an ASAP appointment." She quickly glanced at David, one raised eyebrow in curiosity. "How long'll it take you two lovebirds to eat?" 

"... I dunno... an' hour. Tops." David chopped his hand down, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of a bit of stiffness. He hadn't realized he had been holding his body in so tight, with some kind of tension. He was wondering if the reservations he made would seat them early. 

"Awesome. I'm on it." Korey gave him a thumbs up sign as she slowly turned away. "You just show your pretty face and let my crew gussy you all up." 

David let out a sour expression, digging for his long wallet, on a chain, that dangled down his thigh. He was double checking how much money he had brought with him. "I only have enough for food... an' then drinks for tonight..." He looked up when he heard Korey's laughter. It sounded rather odd to him, making her appear less imposing. "What?" 

"Put that away, my friend. Get used to this..." 

"This?" David was a bit confused. 

"... gettin' somethin' for nothin'..." 

Ah, now David understood. "... the infamous 'fringe benefits'..." 

"Exactly". Korey rolled her wristwatch to check on time. "You better get inside and changed, Cook. Miss Right will be here sooner than you think." As she walked backward and sideways, David looked as if he was following her, but he was really moving toward a side door back into the bar. 

"Later... Korey..." David had to stop himself, almost calling her "Ms. Harkum" again. He gave an off-side wave, then entered the building with a spring in his step. 

When Korey caught David looking over his shoulder at her, with that crooked half-smile, she nearly felt compelled to blow him an "air kiss". Who did that sill-ass shit anymore? Surely not her. Ever. 

The extension she was dialing finally picked up. _**"Hey, Nikki!!... It's Korey! How's it goin'?!... aww, sweet... how's business today? Crowded?... oooo, great, great.... yeah, yeah, I'm good. Say... did I hear right the other day, you were tryin' to get tickets for the 24th?... hehehhe... well, sweets, your luck jus' got a helluva lot closer. I'm cashin' in on a favor or two. Can we talk?"** _ She strutted down the alley way, back onto the front sidewalk, along the bar. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

_**Inside the bar/club dressing room** _

**Michael & David**

 

David hadn't even bothered knocking. He simply burst in with a twist of the door handle. He expected the dressing room to be completely empty. It wasn't. One lone figure occupied one of the reclining chairs in front of the vanity mirror. He could tell by the soft, hushed sounds that there was deep slumber going on. 

He didn't know most of the band members well enough to spot them in a crowded room, much less a silent barren one. The chair was in recline mode, but the body was curled tight in the seat, laying under a thin blanket that once belonged to the couch. There was a lop-sided checkered hat precariously placed on the dozing face. White cords, from a hidden pair of ear phones, came down to form a V to one single line that connected to the portable CD player perched on the table top surface. 

Without needing anymore knowledge, David knew who he barged in on. He could now see every intricate detail that could be picked on, some of the few times he had spent in the older man's company. Well, "older" by four years. It wasn't saying much since Michael wasn't even pushing the age of twenty-five, which left David feeling like the bumbling/fumbling, naive rookie at barely twenty. 

Michael was more than fair and cordial. David had been told to expect a self-importance, a wild "air" or some kind of inflated ego, but he knew it to be what made a great singer... a better front man. Especially to a half-as-good band. He had heard some rumblings, several members of the group thinking Michael could be the band's ruin. Unless they could curb him or... get rid of him. David didn't want to think the addition of his role in the band somehow usurped Michael's long-standing position, but he couldn't help the odd sensation it brought him. 

David hated to tell them how lucky they actually were. He didn't even want to say how much they sucked without Michael as their "lead". They would need someone as strong, fearless and confident as Michael was. None of the other guys held a candle to the sexual magnetism Michael emitted by simply being on stage. There was a reason the first three rows of every club's dancefloor, below the stage, was littered with throngs of female admirers. Had nothing to do with how well the bass, guitar or drums were played. 

David could sense this the night he caught a gig when he bartended at this venue. He found himself captivated from minute one the second that spotlight barely illuminated Michael's shape at the microphone stand. There was something otherworldly fascinating... and heavily seductive... about Michael and his performances on stage. David found him to be quite a cool character and rather oddly charming to be around, though he was a bit intimidated. 

He didn't want to disturb Michael, in his semi sleep/meditative state. He quietly tiptoed over to the tiny designated corner and began to slowly slip out of his clothes. He hung up the sweatshirt jacket on a hanger above his head. He kept his naked torso contained within the confined space, a little self-conscious about his own nudity. He barely knew these guys and they could walk in on him at any time or... 

... it was right after he pulled off his cotton-t. The multitude of chains around his neck clanging together. He mussed his hair even more than it had been before. He heard the creak of the reclining chair spinning around and a soft cough... 

"... plannin' to abandon me, as well, Davey?" 

When David startled, he couldn't help smirking secretly. Something liquid and leathery about Michael's voice sent a tingling down his spine, making his gut clench. It was weird. 

From the time he knew music was his love, he knew there were so few things that made him bubble with a super-charged energy. The simple presence of Michael... the way the room seemed to spin and change temperatures... it was becoming a close runner-up. 

David _loved_ women. There was no doubt in his mind. Loved their smells, their warmth, that odd sense of "home" they constantly gave him. There was no inkling in his mind that he wasn't like every other hot-blooded hetero American male. 

But... there was a small part of him that followed a different path. One where he was able to focus his attentions on other men. Men he had admired since he began learning music, honing his skills on the two instruments he enjoyed playing. It was only with men who were lead singers in popular bands. And the more he branched out in his own career, the more he was growing to realize it wasn't _just_ a fantasy. Crushing on men who he knew he could never meet, that shit was easy. These days... he found himself falling in lust with several of the more popular local bands. This was much harder to cope with, being that there were some days where he would be able to actually touch and stand next to these attractive men. 

He was a little embarrassed, maybe ashamed, of this quirk. He was more uncomfortable now, since he was closeted in a room alone with one of those men. One he had been feeling a very strong pull toward, without exception. 

_**... christ...** _

On the spin to face Michael, David slipped one arm through a sleeve. "... you looked peaceful. Like you were in your... 'zone'..." He couldn't believe he used "air quotes". 

Still curled into himself, hat off his face but back a ways on his long dark-brown wavy curls, Michael let his padded ear phones slip down around his neck. He arced back, just so, to get a better look of this young bloke the band was choosing to fill his vacancy. He wondered if the kid even knew? Probably not. Focusing on his own world. That's what most guys his age would've done. 

"Well..." Michael inched forward, pulling off the ear phones and laying them on top of the CD player. "... by your standards... I AM... a ROCK GOD... a, uh... LEGEND in the making..." He had heard through the grapevine what David's views of him were like... as a "fan" of the band. It was kind of awkward to be sharing space with him, as a fellow musician and singer. 

David smacked one hand over his eyes, letting the palm cup his cheek. He softly chuckled, standing with feet placed apart in a semi-tough guy stance. "... oh, lord... you ever gonna let me live that down?" He truly hoped not, because it was such a conversation starter for them both. Plus, he didn't mind waxing poetic about Michael... in front of Michael. David was always rather free about his opinions, especially when he felt them as deeply as he did. He never joked around about music or true artists. 

David was approaching him, Michael had to swallow quickly. He couldn't decipher what his body was reacting to; the quirky lift of those arched brows, the mischievous twinkle in the eyes or the quick advance of the warm, half-naked body. Well, the button-down shirt remained open, shadowing the bare, somewhat, muscular chest. Michael kept getting flashes of dark hair trailing down under the belted waistline of the jeans. Some nasty, perverted thoughts were echoing in his mind. No denying he was nervous, but he hid it as best he could. 

"... look..." Michael sat completely forward, managing to keep the blanket over his chilled frame. "... I was never in the least bit unflattered, mate. I was... an' still am... kinda... touch'd..." He cleared his throat when he realized he was allowing his mind to roll back the years. "My early days, in this band, left a lot to be desired. I was finding my way... finding my place... finding my voice. It took me a few struggling years to come upon the fact that... you either got it or you don't. If it's hard now, think about what it'll be like years from this very moment." 

David crossed one arm over his mid-section, grabbing for the dangling arm's elbow joint. "... yeah, but... any amount of success takes hard work. Shit just doesn't happen that perfectly. Not for me, at least. I don't know about you. I look at where you are..." He shook his head in slight sadness. "... there's a thousand guys behind you thinking they can be the same... an' they can't. It's not self-taught. You're even where some lead singers in more popular, radio-friendly bands _wish_ they were. You stay busy. You never stop moving... shakin' the foundation so it doesn't go stagnant beneath your feet." 

"You let it... an'... you die, man..." Michael looked off to the side, feeling a bit melancholy. "... but I'm not saying it's the best. There's no lie at how lonely it can be at the top..." He wished he could say more, admit what had gone on only a few minutes before David had come into the room. Michael felt like David would've been a great best friend to have, under those circumstances. 

"... but the ride there..." David tilted his head a certain way to show he really wanted to know the secret. "... was it worth it? Everything?" 

Michael flashed a look at David, catching the seriousness of the question. He brought out his arm, rubbing his fingers over his jawline and chin. "I look at it as more of a, uh... journey... along an extremely bumpy road, with a lot of crossroads. It's up to you on which path you decide to choose." It wasn't until now that he realized he could be talking to himself. 

"The 'universal' you, right?" David teased, shuffling his feet to kick out at one of the foot pedals of the chair. 

Michael could sense that David was teasing him, maybe playfully taunting him to fight. He would break out his spiritual Jim Morrison act for such times as these whenever he spoke to those young guys who admired him. Who the hell was he to be looked up to? "... yeah. Not you, personally..." 

David folded both arms over his chest. "You gonna stay here tonight?" He was about to offer Michael the chance for some take-out from the restaurant he would be going to. 

"That was the plan..." Michael slid down off the chair, still leaning his backside on the hard leather cushions. "... then a bitty mouse came in an' started nippin' at my toes..." 

David rolled his eyes, beginning to turn his body away. "... an' that was my 'cue' to burn rubber." He raised an arm to wave "goodbye", after he saluted two fingers off his left temple. 

Michael snickered, jumping off the chair, planting his feet firm on the ground. He wrapped the blanket more around his shoulders, allowing the fabric to drape as he poked his arms out. "Whoa there, Cowboy!" He managed to snag an open, unbuttoned shirt cuff, before David fully escaped. "... don' ride off so quickly..." He realized too late how close their bodies would actually be to one another. 

They bumped hips, David's shirt brushing over Michael's blanket. 

A small sneer to the lips, David watched Michael's reaction as he truly gave him a once over, like he was seeing him for the first time. "... see anything you like?" He had no idea where that low-bass tone of his voice had come from. Or why he felt his nipples become that much perkier. He was almost losing control of his own breathing, his heart racing a bit faster too. 

Michael quirked one eyebrow in wonder. "Dinner... with your bird?" 

David was caught in Michael's gaze so much that he wasn't able to translate the word "bird" fast enough, until about a minute later. "A light meal with my girlfriend... yeah. Complaints? Pointers?" He shifted his arm to be able to tap a finger on his watch face. "Time's tickin' away, Johns." 

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his hands up and down his biceps. In his bare feet, he found himself eye to eye with David. "... your mommy ever tell you... you're an ungrateful little snot?" 

David crossed his own arms again, facing Michael. Their forearms almost touching every so often. "Meh... I've gotten on her last nerve a few hundred times. She's the one person I'd lay my own life down for." His face became devoid of emotion, a blank stare of courage. He had some idea Michael would tease him about possibly being a Momma's Boy. Most guys did, and had, but not before David showed them his true strengths. 

Michael really admired David's ability to talk so profoundly about his mother, yet still remain somewhat... untouched by a sentimentality that spoke of a woman's sole upbringing. "You're a good son?" 

"The BEST." David raised his chin up even higher. 

"What else you good at?" Michael laughed at the crooked eyebrow of perplexity. "... besides the gee-tar-h an' a set of pipes on you that are known to make several women cry..." 

David finally joined in Michael's laughter, unable to keep the poker face on much longer. He placed a hand over his belly, rubbing tenderly. "... eh... givin' away my heart... I suppose" 

Michael watched the hand on David's chest slowly roam upward to rest underneath the right breast bone. "... ahhh..." He didn't know how to respond, other than to start by reaching out to button the shirt. He began from lowest rung button on up. 

David dropped his arm, letting both limbs rest against his sides. The hat and ear phones were no longer hiding Michael's appearance. The dark lengths of hair had been pulled back in a clip, probably something he had found in the vanity. Several pieces were already slipping out and framing Michael's round, masculine face. A few skimmed his flushed cheeks. David was tempted to brush them back with his fingers, but he sufficed with watching Michael tend to him, dressing him awful slowly. The intense warmth of a blanketed body, the long nimble fingers trailing up his chest... David began to heavily breathe, making his lung capacity very prominent as the material of the shirt rose and fell against his own heated skin. 

Michael was in such deep concentration, biting his tongue, then licking his lips every once and awhile. He stopped moving at the third button from the top of the open collar. There was a heavier concentration on David's pale throat, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the tinny jangle of the necklace chains... Michael was afraid to look into the eyes because he knew they would display something similar to his own. He could only raise his eyes as far as the coarse beard growth, over the pliable skin. He knew what his bristles felt like on his own skin, but... what would another man's feel like? 

David didn't know why his hands and arm moved the way they did. They came up to work out of his belt buckle, lowering his zipper down to begin tucking the bottom hem of the shirt into his waist. He knew Michael was getting other ideas as the eyes widened and the Adam's apple moved. David bit the inside of his cheek, slowly pushing the material of the cool fabric against his naked flesh. 

Michael cleared his throat, lifting his head. "... you need a shave... an' a real hairstyle..." He glanced at David under hooded eyes. 

David snickered, knowing Michael was attempting to find some fault with him to taunt him. "... you need shoes..." He stared down his nose, lifting his chin. "... I'd even settle for some socks..." He tugged on the blanket to wrap Michael more securely under its meager protection. "... you'll catch pneumonia before you're thrity..." To him... Michael was flawless. No complaints or annoyances. 

It had begun as a personal jab, but the follow-through sounded more caring and thoughtful than anything Michael had heard in years. He almost went dizzy from the thought of someone taking care of him... supporting him when the chips were down and the whole world was against him. 

One by one, Michael tugged out the necklaces. A few times having to untangle them at the back, causing David to have to bend his head so he could reach and resettle the chains. He looked down at the flapping cuffs around the wrists. "... I could 'fix' those, if you want..." 

Michael wasn't his girlfriend... or his mother. Yet... David was really fascinated by wanting to be taken care of and, oddly, adored by the attention given to him by Michael's hands. Hands he had seen shape and mold around a mic stand as if it were another human's form. Lovingly caressing down the metallic shape and cradling the mic, itself, in his palms. That mouth, full and delectable, singing into the top half, the mind thinking of the same lips lingering kisses on naked skin. It took David a few seconds to snap out of his trance. "... thanks, but I think I can handle them on my own, Papa..." 

"... sorry..." Michael's accent was more pronounced when he used his deep voice. 

It was the vulnerable manner that Michael took, as he backed away, that nearly broke David's heart. He wanted to tug him forward, move to reach out and grab biceps, but he knew once he had a hold... he wouldn't want to let go. All David did was rest his wrist on the dip of shoulder to neck, fingers dangling over the blanket-covered shoulder blade. "Please, don't be. Ever. I have this feeling..." There bodies almost swayed, moving in rhythm together, closer. "... MATE..." They shared in a chuckle at David's sad attempt at an Australian accent. "... we can, and will, learn a lot from each other." Was it certifiable to feel that "zing" he sometimes felt with _certain_ people? The ones where, in a quick flash of time, he could see a real future together. A future with Michael? How weird and wonderful would that be? 

David knew his dinner date was going to be an utter bust. Who knew what could be in store once the night was over and they had finished playing this gig for tonight... 

There was a solid knock on the door. David and Michael pulled away, going in their own separate directions. 

Only a head popped around the paneling. "Cook?" Once the man had David's attention, he went on. "... your ride's out front..." 

"Thanks, Paul." David called out to the bar manager. He went over to pull down another of his famed vests. 

The closing of the door latch left the room quiet, with only the sound of one word... "... don't..." 

David heard the tiny plea, wondering what Michael was getting at. "I can't..." He was in the mind-set of another conversation, not thinking of the real reason Michael had spoken out. 

"... settle down, Davey..." Michael hitched up his own jeans, hands hooked in the back pockets. "... I meant... ditch the vest, is all. You look dashin' without." 

David had sense enough to blush, feeling his body grow warm again. Layers always worked for him, hiding that ounce or two of returning baby fat he never seemed to be able to get rid of around his mid-section. "Dashing?" He had never known many people to use that word coherently, or correctly, in a complete sentence. Hadn't that word disappeared beyond the year 1836? "They use that a lot in Australia?" 

Michael was used to being teased about his birth country, even though he had lived stateside for quite a few years on his own. "It's a word. Me being an Aussie has nothing to do with its usage. Thought it would be much better than... FINE." For the last word, Michael had "American-ized" his tone, which caused David to chuckle and shake his head in shame. 

"Well, thanks..." David spun to leave, but turned about rather quickly. "... you'll be here when I get back?" He didn't know why, but his stomach clenched in knots. Something told him his time with Michael was limited, so he better make the best of it. 

Michael stopped in his tracks, heading toward the bathroom. The tiny war going on inside his head - _to stay, leaving with a_ _big bang_ _or to just walk away and wipe the slate clean_ \- caused him to keep rethinking his actions tonight. "... yeah..." This was the first time he vocalized his decision. "... yeah, yeah... I'll be here... an' I'll expect you to be prompt an' ready to rock..." He threw out some "metal horns" in the air, a clear sign that he was ready to kick some ass. 

David bit at his bottom lip, hand on the doorknob. He shyly nodded his head, deeply respecting Michael for being able to swallow his pride and walk away from conflict. He opened the door, leaning back along the paneling as he worked at rolling his cuffs back to his elbows. He was closing his eyes, hoping to hear his name called back... Michael not being done with him yet... 

There was nothing. 

He walked out into the short, darkened corridor, rolling his shoulders like a prize fighter, gathering some semblance of control again. He almost made it onto the main floor of the bar, when he did the mistake of looking once more over his shoulder, before he walked through the draped curtains... 

... Michael stood outside the dressing room door... leaning his right shoulder on the wall. 

David wasn't even sure his name had been called. He spun around to begin approaching Michael, who never lifted his eyes or his head. Michael kept his arms crossed under the blanket. The second they were sharing breathing space, Michael untucked his left arm... the fingers of his right hand working at getting off the two-inch thick leather wristband he had worn since he started playing music on stage. That would've been around David's own age now. 

David heard the snaps being undone, then took a step back as both palms came out to refuse the offer. "... uh-uh... no... no..." It seemed like such a sacrilegious thing to have happen. "... it's, like, your trademark, man... your good luck charm..." He felt like someone was offering him the Holy Grail... or the secret to life... 

In under fifteen minutes of his own time, David had given Michael so much more than anyone had shown him in all these years of playing in this band... of working hard to make something of himself. No words of "thank you" were enough. It almost felt like passing the baton off to a better, younger, stronger runner to make it to the finish line. For the first time, Michael didn't see David as his competition, but more like his fellow partner. Any success David attained would make Michael that much more pleased and excited about his own. "... an' some even have this idea it's my mo-jo." He was able to snatch David's right wrist, the one that would be visible strumming the guitar. He snickered lightly only because there was such a myth built behind this stupid cuff, people thought he would die without it being on his person. Little did they know he didn't wear it to bed, took it off when he showered and never wore it unless he was on stage or doing something for the band. 

David had to chuckle. He was being gifted a piece of Michael's "mo-jo"? He would have laughed hard until he cried if he wasn't so speechless about this personal, significant eighteen second moment. The cuff fit perfectly. He stared down in awe as Michael kept his hand there - _the fingertips, really_ \- on the underside of his arm, soothing the sensitive flesh. "... I'm--there are absolutely no words..." 

"You may not see me before the gig. I wanted you to know... whatever it was that put me where I am, I see in... you..." Michael poked a finger dead center of David's chest. 

David shook his head in disagreement. "Nah... you're pullin' my leg..." He always imagined that when Michael was on stage he went somewhere, some place far away, where no one could touch him. He barely even acknowledged anyone on stage beside him. But that was Michael's brilliance as a performer, transcending reality and letting something supernatural take over. 

"No. I'm serious, David." Michael reached up to grab the back of David's neck, under the long strands of hair at his nape. "... listen to me. I don't joke about this shit, because _this shit_... is harder than it looks. I know I make it look easy, but..." He shook his head, wanting desperately to say more. "... jus' know that you're better than this. All of it, mate. You're here for a reason and it's not what you think it's supposed to be. Make it a springboard into better things. This band is here, at this level, going on six years. That's where they're most comfortable. But you... you're just like me..." He let go of David's nape, sliding his hand down the shoulder, along the shirt front, flicking his fingers at the necklace pendants. "... destined for _something more_..." 

"... I-I-I don' know what to say... we barely know each other..." 

"I think you know... you an' I... we're much closer than we think..." Michael flashed a look under hooded eyes at David. "... but I don't think either of us are where we need to be to become who we really are..." Wow! Didn't that sound as confusing out loud as it was in his head!?! 

"You do have one of the most dizzying intellects, Johns." 

".. an' you..." 

"Me?... _what?_ " David was truly interested in what Michael found perplexing about him. 

_... have the softest skin?... have the warmest body?... have the most inviting, smoldering passionate eyes?_ Michael was clearly confused and at a loss for words. "... you better go..." He gently shoved at David's shoulder in a playful, teasing manner. "... don' wanna keep your pretty ladybird waiting..." 

"Okay. Fine, but..." David was taking steps backward, away from Michael. He was losing that intense warmth, growing slightly chilled. "... I'm gonna die wondering, I guess..." He gave a small wave, then tucked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans, disappearing behind the thick curtain. 

Michael had tried not to watch, had turned to face the door, grabbing the knob, but he couldn't deny himself one last look at David. He leaned his forehead on the paneling, attempting to center himself on the inside. There was no way he could get through tonight's show with the thoughts rumbling about in his mind. This would be his last gig, for awhile. He _had_ to focus on himself and his own future. _Separate_ from the band... _finally_ on his own. He almost wished David hadn't been such a perfect fit for the band, then he could've invited him along in his search for something better. The next phase of his career. 

He wasn't feeding David any bullshit. There was a huge wide world that deserved to bask in the glow of David Cook's hidden talents. Michael hoped David's star kept rising, never knowing what it was like to plummet, like he just did. It would be a few months before Michael could see himself able to front another band. Even to try his hand at being a solo artist. Hard to trust when others wanted you to fail. But... there was something he thrived on and adored about being surrounded by like-minded, talented musicians all vying for the same dream on stage. 

It would be scary being on his own, but Michael knew that was the kind of life he was going to have to live from now on. It gave him a bit of comfort knowing a part of him would move on with David. Live on in whatever capacity of success the young man would have. He thought it strange that he was actually becoming a bit excited about tonight. Unable to fathom exactly what David Cook could bring to his "A game". 

Michael knew HE was going to give his final performance his everything. He hoped David would enjoy the journey with him... until the bittersweet end... 

**~*~TBC...**   


**Author's Note:**

> Note from 06-11-06) If this is well-received, I'm thinking about actually creating my own Mavid world where there's a gradual building of a friendship/bro-mance from afar as their lives move on, living apart from one another. I promise those fics won't be too long or drawn-out and painful as sometimes I can't bear my own angst-filled romances, as a writer ; There could be a portion of fics where there's an "American Idol"-type show that David gets on, but Michael doesn't... or might - I haven't really decided, yet, and it truly depends on how my *muse* feels and checks the scene out ; There will be an eventual Mavid romantic relationship, but it will take a bit of patience and trust as I try to come to grips with writing this type of fan-fiction. I really enjoyed creating and writing this portion as my first foray into RPS, because I feel I've skewed the David and Michael bar enough to make myself feel comfortable to where they almost feel like my own O.C.s (Original Characters).


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